A Fool's Journey
by whatapotter
Summary: Some wonder why Neville Longbottom was ever sorted into Gryffindor, or if he'd ever do anything but explode cauldrons. But does anyone ever wonder what Neville thinks?


They say one small butterfly can cause a hurricane on the opposite side of the world. Well, Harry was certainly no butterfly, but when he stretched his wings, boy, did I feel like I was caught in the eye of the storm.

He doesn't mean to, of course – he never does. Things just… happen, when you're around Harry. He asked me to join this Order he's involved in. Well, what could I say? How do you make a decision like that, a decision that will change your whole world? He's my friend, of course he is, and I want to stand by him… but I'm just not brave like him, or clever like Hermione, and now it seems I'm not even loyal like Ron. I'm just a nobody, and there's no place for a nobody in a war like this.

My old Professors, Dumbledore and McGonagall, came to see me afterwards. They wanted me to join - I can't imagine why, but they did anyway. Oh, Dumbledore gave me lots of advice about coping with the war and 'becoming who I was meant to be', but in the end all it did was make me feel like a first year all over again. They've been there before, in the first war, both of them. They've fought against evil and led the Order, and sure, you can see that they're both wise and experienced with this sort of thing, but all I ended up thinking was why they bothered wasting that wisdom on me.

I think their visit left me with more questions than it answered, but then that's always been Dumbledore's way really. I ended up seeking sanctuary from the whirlwind of my mind at the one place I knew I was loved, or had been loved. Everyone says my parents are insane, and I try not to show how deeply that hurts, but really, at the end of the day, all that matters is that _I _know they love me, and even if they might not always realise I'm there, they're proud of me. My mum even stroked my hair that day. I think she might have been reaching for the pile of bubble gum wrappers by her bedside table and hit my head by accident, but then again, maybe she really had noticed how confused I was. I can hope anyway. Sometimes that's all there is to life – hope. Well, she made me feel better anyway, but then she always does. Just sitting beside her somehow calms me in a way Gran never can.

Gran was another headache all of her own. Of course, she thinks I should join. She's all for the principles of fighting for what's right in the world, and, of course, honouring my parents. I admit that one really hurt. I mean, I know I never knew them, but somehow I don't think they'd be terribly excited to see their only son go off to a war they lost their sanity to. I tried to tell her I needed some time to think about it, but that really didn't go down very well. I do think she loves me, in her own way, I really do. It's just, well, it wouldn't hurt for her to be a bit cuddlier about it.

Then, well to be dramatic about it, then disaster struck. I got home from work to the scene every wizard nowadays dreads. My Gran was lying in the middle of the living room floor, surrounded by Death Eaters, screaming this awful, soul-piercing scream. Now I know I whinge about my Gran a lot, and I know we don't always get along swimmingly, but those are _my _issues with _my _Grandmother. When it comes down to it, I love her, I really do. So when I walked through the door to that scene, something just erupted inside of me. I mean how dare they, how _dare _they! I don't really remember what happened too clearly, I just remember charging into the room filled with this terrible, terrible anger and darkness. I remember trying, foolishly, to take on all of them at once and save my Gran at the same time. I remember failing. I remember the endless chants of '_Crucio'_, and the never-ending pain. Lastly, I remember the Ministry Aurors rushing into the house, and then nothing, as sweet unconsciousness claimed me.

When I look back on that moment, when I was poised in the doorway, I see myself standing on the edge of a precipice. There, right before me, was a terrible choice – run, save myself and hide away from the darkness, or fight, for the people I loved and for what I knew was right. The thing was I made that choice without even thinking about it. The answer was there, inside of me, all along; I just lacked the courage to recognise it.

Even so, even after giving myself time to work through all of this after I woke up in St Mungo's, I still couldn't quite make myself seek Harry out. I was filled for some reason with this terrible indecision. Some part of me still wanted to just run away, run away and hide while the clever ones dealt with this war.

In the end, Harry tipped me into action. He came to see me again, looking for an answer. With him standing there right in front of me, I had no where else left to hide. I gave him the answer he wanted, but I still wasn't sure.

About a week passed by, and even though the Order seemed to accept me, I still didn't feel like I belonged. There was a nagging worry always at the periphery of my mind, and it took me a while to pluck up the courage to confide in Harry. You see, that moment when I realised the Death Eaters were destroying somebody I loved, I felt something become unleashed within me. It was something crazy, something wrathful… something dark. It scared me, this darkness within me, and it wasn't until I talked to Harry that I realised this darkness lives within everyone. It hides there, waiting to strike, and one of the hardest things we must do in this war is strike a balance between the darkness and the good inside of us. It is this balance that separates us from the Death Eaters, the people that have let darkness consume them.

Talking to Harry allowed me to accept this part of myself. I felt… free, like I hadn't for a long time now. I began to see that I had known what the right thing to do was all along, and I merely lacked the conviction in myself to carry it through. Afterwards, I began to see the Order differently. You see they weren't remarkably talented or outstandingly clever. They were ordinary, desperate people fighting to save the people they loved and the world they believed in. I realised that I was one of them. I realised that, finally, I belonged.

So this is it then. I, Neville Frank Longbottom, am officially a member of the Order of the Phoenix. I think it's high time I showed the world just what a Longbottom is capable of.


End file.
